


Refuge in the Dark

by bovaria



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Smut, Smut and Angst, Smut and Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 04:45:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5814781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bovaria/pseuds/bovaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has always been the reader’s safe haven, but what happens when Dean goes to hell only to come back and need a refuge of his own?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Refuge in the Dark

His eyes used to light up before. They used to burst with life, with hope. He used to be the one that would pick you up whenever life knocked you off your feet. His smile would be your haven, your oasis in the middle of this desert of death, hopelessness, misery. You’d wrap his arms around your body, lay your head on his chest, focus on the steady beat of his heart and remind yourself that he was still there. He used to be your refuge in the middle of the chaos.

When the monsters became too much, when the blood was thick on your memories, when your eyes fogged up with the tears you let out because you could not stand it anymore, he was the one who would let you sleep in his bed. He’d press his lips to your forehead. His words would soothe you as your sobs would dissipate in the night air, leaving only his whispers against your skin.

He loved you more than anything. He had shown you time and time again. He’d demonstrated it in the wide grin that would be permanently etched on his features when you would enter the room he was in. He’d show it to you whenever he’d reach over to your seat and grab your hand, bringing it up to his lips. He loved you. It was more than enough proof when he lost his shit as he saw you being tortured by that vampire, trying to get him to stop chasing its own nest.

He laid with you for days after that. His hips attached themselves to yours and all you saw and heard was him. His hands would constantly touch your skin, they’d make contact just to assure himself that you were truly there with him. His presence intermingled with yours until there was point that you were convinced that if he was not there, you didn’t truly exist.

You became dependent on him, just like he became dependent on you.

Until the day Sam came tumbling to your door. He had left you behind, only wanting his younger brother to accompany him, along with that demon named Ruby. He didn’t want you there. He promised you that he’d be back.

“I’ll find a way around the deal, sweetheart,” he whispered against your temple, his warm hand pressed against your nape. You had fisted his flannel shirt and pulled him closer to your significantly tinier body. He overpowered you in every way and you relished in it. You threatened to leave him if he walked out your door, but he had only shook his head. “I have to do this, (Y/N),” he looked back, tears threatening to fall over. You had slammed the door in his face, anger fueling your movements.

“He’s gone,” Sam whispered as you ushered him in, looking behind his large body. Maybe he had hidden behind just to surprise you.

You were speechless at the younger Winchester’s words.

“He’s gone,” Sam reiterated. He sobbed into his hands as he collapsed and all you could do was fall down with him. His larger frame suddenly fitted in your arms as you comforted him, simultaneously trying to keep yourself together. “They ripped him to shreds,” his voice was close to being unintelligible, yet they were clear enough for you to grasp their meaning and put two and two together.

Dean Winchester had broken his promise to you.

Sam had later ran out of tears and you made him tea, comforting him with a soft hand on his nape and the silence that he needed. You knew he had been blaming himself and part of you wanted to blame him for it, but you knew that Sam would have done the same if it had been the other way around. Hell, even you would have made the same exact choice.

It was in a split second that it all came crumbling down for you. The conversation with Sam had somehow gotten lighter and he had made a nerdy joke, to which you automatically turned to your right. Dean usually sat there when all three of you were together. You’d make fun of Sam as Dean snickered, tongue poking out from between his teeth. But there was no smile to make you laugh even harder. There was just an empty chair.

You felt the cracks grow bigger, give way to the dam inside you. It broke through as your voice sounded out in pain. Your body gave up trying to hold itself as you felt your lungs constrict, your heart suddenly empty. The void inside you felt unbearable as the tears made it impossible to see. Your throat couldn’t stop the sobs from pouring out.

You felt warm, strong arms wrap around your trembling body and for a second you felt your hopes rise. But just as quick they were destroyed. Sam’s voice was the one soothing you, not Dean’s. The pain was increased tenfold and there was nowhere to refuge yourself. Your haven had abandoned you.

Sam remained with you for weeks. He’d be your silent companion as you found that you were unable to mend yourself back together. He eventually left, offering no explanation as he simply walked out the door. You were too occupied attempting to grasp your sanity from falling over the abyss to even notice his absence.

The days meshed into a single mess of sobs, nightmares, and shortness of breath whenever he came up in your thoughts. You’d lie in bed all day, your memories of his teasing green orbs giving you some type of reason to keep breathing.

Then slowly, the days became a little brighter. The blur you saw began to dissipate. It was hard to see at first, but you realized that you’d get out of bed with less difficulty, bringing yourself to at least help in research whenever a fellow hunter was in need of it. You’d no longer just stare at the wall for hours, instead finding shelter in books.

After the third month of his absence, you went on your first hunt. Your friends teased you about looking like shit but you only rolled your eyes. They were genuinely trying to make you feel better.

You were the one who killed the werewolf. Usually, someone would shoot a silver bullet in its heart, but not this time. You only saw red as the creature snarled at you, its threatening stance enough to make everyone else take a step back. Yet the anger you had kept inside yourself burst out. It pummeled you forward, with only a silver knife in hand. The beast clawed at your skin, but you never felt pain. Your focus was entirely on the blade slicing through its flesh.

You had to be pulled away from the lifeless form. Everyone worried about you. They fawned over you as if you were a kid who had just broken her arm in front of all the neighborhood. There were a series of “Are you okay?” and “You have got to take a break,” until you screamed at everyone, begging for them to leave you alone.

Without a single word, you dusted yourself off, ignoring the blood on your hands and clothes, walking to your motorcycle. It was nothing short of a miracle that you got home unscathed. The tears made it almost unmanageable for you to see the road, yet somehow you parked the bike and treaded up to your front door, stumbling inside.

The wall you had begun to build up had dissolved, leaving only hurt behind. Your arms wrapped around your form, trying to recreate the sensation of having him embrace you. But nothing, no one, could ever replace him. You knew that very well.

A month went by. You forced yourself back up, urging your own body to carry on. Until…

There was a knock at your door. You had been cooking yourself some lunch, music on full blast as you swayed your body to the rhythm in what most would call an embarrassing dance. You had set up the table when the knocking made you snap your head up, body immediately on alert.

You warily opened the door, only to have your jaw drop to the ground.

“Hey, sweetheart,” his smile greeted you, arms outstretched. “You missed me?”

* * *

You slammed the door in his face. There was no other reaction in you but that. Your heart seemed to want to crawl its way out of your chest and your tears were already threatening to spill over. You knew that you could not fully trust him. He had crawled out of hell, literally. Nothing, no one, could do that. If they did, they surely had to be demons themselves.

However, you couldn’t help your hand from reaching out, turning the doorknob, seeing his disappointed face light up in a soft smile that you immediately noticed didn’t quite reach his eyes. Every hunter instinct inside of you screamed at your body as it plummeted into his opened arms. You were supposed to check him for any kind of abnormality. He had to pass the holy water test, the silver knife to his skin. Yet you found yourself burying your face into his chest, inhaling his scent and realizing Dean was still Dean.

His chest moved under your touch as he chuckled, for the first time feeling lighter since he had crawled out of his grave. He had this feeling deep inside that you weren’t going to be there to greet him when he knocked on your door. But despite the bad thoughts, you were actually in his arms. They squeezed around you and you sobbed out your ecstasy at having him surround your space.

There was a fleeting moment where you felt him pull away and your heart jumped in panic, but his hands cupped around your face and his lips met yours. It was a hungry, yearning kiss. His teeth sought out your bottom lip and bit down, demanding access to your mouth. You granted it with no regards to anything but to feel Dean sear himself into every part of your body.

His body moved against yours, slowly stepping back until you both collapsed on the couch in a heap of limbs, grins, and kisses. His lips left yours, trailing across your cheek and heat emanated from every inch of skin his mouth touched. You could feel your body responding to him, legs squeezing around his hips to bring him closer as his fingers clawed at your clothes, desperate to tear them off you.

In a flurry of garments flying and rustling to get in comfortable positions, Dean entered you. His hips moved with fervor, desperate to bring the both of you to the brink of orgasm. You shook underneath him, the pleasure and disbelief in actually having him back in your arms overwhelming you.

Dean was also unable to pull himself together as his length drove into you in erratic jerks, his body flushed against yours as skin slapped together, the sound of you becoming one again with your soul mate filling the room until everything became Dean. You couldn’t help the tears from escaping, running down on either sides of your head as you met his green ones. He smiled tenderly as it hit him that you were crying.

There was a flash of blood, screams, agony in Dean’s memory and his thrusts missed a beat as he reined in his memories and forced them to disappear to a corner of his mind. You saw the panic flash in his eyes, your own reciprocating it. Yet, he shook his head, eyes disappearing as he shut his lids and crashed his mouth down on yours.

He bit down roughly, hips driving into you so hard that your own lifted from sheer force. His teeth pulled at your bottom lip and you whimpered, the pleasure melding with the pain until you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore.

Your orgasm fired right through every one of your nerve endings. Dean followed shortly, groaning into your ear as his body collapsed on top of yours.

The seconds seemed to stretch into an eternity you never wanted to leave. His breath matched yours as the wheezing pants slowly dissipated, turning into disbelieving sighs. His emerald green orbs met yours and you could see the wrinkles on each side of his eyes as his lips upturned in a wide-set grin.

“It’s really you,” your voice broke, your hand rising to cup his jaw.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he spoke lowly, as if afraid that words might fail him in keeping his composure. “You really did miss me.”

Your sob escaped your mouth before you could realize it and your arms coiled themselves around his shoulder as you brought him down. He collapsed with a huff on you, his bare body pressing against your feverish skin.

Yet his eyes never broke contact with yours. Your heart wrenched inside your chest as you realized that the happiness that he felt in being back with you wasn’t the only emotion present in them. There was agony, misery, hopelessness, a sense of despair. You knew that Dean had felt raw pain in its entirety, his eyes bared it all to you. The moment carried more intimacy than the previous ones as you felt moisture hit your cheeks.

Dean was crying.

“Oh, baby,” you pressed your lips to his eyelids as the tears didn’t stop, sobs wracking his body.

“You,” Dean struggled for breath as the droplets fell from his eyes to your cheeks. “You were what kept me from going insane. You were my only hope,” he whispered. His eyes slowly opened and you saw just how badly he was broken. Your haven, your refuge in the dark, it had cracked and broken to countless pieces. “You were my place of peace,” he confessed. “It was you. Not Sammy, not anyone.”

“Okay, okay,” he was shaking now and you shushed him gently, your heart breaking with every one of his cries.

He stayed in your arms for hours. It had been midday when he had walked into your home and darkness enveloped the room when he finally stood up and pulled you with him. He led the way to your bedroom, tucking the both of you in and pressing you into his chest. His legs tangled with yours and you hummed softly as you felt him fall asleep.

The nightmares woke you up. His cries were agonizing as he thrashed around, limbs flying as he called out for help, your name and Sam’s mixing with his pleas for mercy. You shook him awake and like a child, he laid his head on your shoulder and wailed. You hoped that your presence could somehow soothe him, your hand stroking his dirty blonde hair a reminder of just how much you yearned to come to his aid.

It took him a while to fall back asleep, letting himself be lulled by the beating of your heart. His arms were tight around your hips, a desperate attempt to convince himself that hell had passed, that he was in his own paradise now.

Yet the nightmares ceased to be only when he was asleep as time moved on. They began to crack through as you playfully slapped his shoulder for teasing you. They showed their crude face when some car behind him would sound the horn because he wouldn’t move from the stop sign since he was too busy poking fun at you. Using all his energy to control the flashbacks would overpower the pleasant moments he had with you until the tiny speck of light that had been left in his eyes finally disappeared.

Dean had changed. Hope had forsaken him.


End file.
